Direction lacking

Hungry you look at me, but lacking faith in your own strength of
embrace.
I see what is the base of your chemical relationship to disgrace
Or should I say slave to a vice called diamond white, it shelters us
from our own privet lifes.
There is no blessing for us from Christ, no dream of a better after
life.
Cradled in a wet bag of sand, we shiver with the damp, as does our skin
wrinkle with its touch.
Enter the circle of the dammed; watch the tree's wilt with nothing more
than a brush of our hands, night has set just so we never forget.
A time to dream and ponder,
Day light is back and reality upon me, I am not what I am, will time
betray me.